


Meet Me in The Pale Moonlight

by yvie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Problematic Relationships, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:33:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yvie/pseuds/yvie
Summary: Lee Taeyong and Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, the best actors of their generation, are rivals. Due to unfavorable circumstances, they end up being cast together in a film by Kim Doyoung, one of the most anticipated up-and-coming directors in the movie industry. They have to work with each other's insufferable attitudes, controversial relationships, and everything else that comes with it (like feelings.)





	1. act one.

**Author's Note:**

> aight hello! this is another break from my pirate au, inspired greatly by that sudsapda magazine shoot. like lover, please stay, i had originally planned for this to be a long oneshot but i figured that i wanted to split this into three parts so it wouldn't be too long to read. sdsfds
> 
> the song title comes from "meet me in the pale moonlight" by lana del rey. 
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> ps: please don't kill me for boa/taeyong sdkfdhs

The limousine skidded to a stop. Inside the opulent sedan, there was a line of empty champagne glasses on the sides, with a half-finished bottle of said expensive drink on the table. There was a woman and a man in that limousine – the woman, considerably older than the man, had her gloved arms snaked around the sleeve of his teal velvet Saint-Laurent suit. Her head was rested on his shoulder, and his hand was on her exposed thigh, which he had the slit on her dress to thank for. They were both waiting for one of them to step out of the vehicle first.

“Yongie,” the woman crooned, “we have to get out there.”

Her fingers were slender, as if playing the piano up his sleeve. She had gifted that suit to him last night, thinking that it would fit the event: a gathering for the most prestigious people in the movie industry todate. She was wearing a revealing red velvet gown that hugged her small waist, slit up to the upper thigh, to compliment her partner’s dark teal.  

“I don’t want to,” whispered Taeyong, through his teeth.

There was nothing Taeyong detested more than parties – always the same people over and over. It was just a front to suck it up with the higher-ups in the industry and to show whose clique was more fabulous than the other. Usually, they just used each other over and over until one gets thrown into the background due to irrelevance. Well, it is true that he had met Boa in that same environment, but she was the only good thing to have come out of it. He was a big fan of hers, they talked over a haze of alcohol, and now they’re in a complicated relationship: she gives him gifts, he gives her pleasure – they have a good friendship going, however.

She shifts in her seat. “Do you think now is the time to be a child, Taeyong? You need this. You need the connections.”

He clicked his teeth. “I know, and I hate you for being right,” he said with a squeeze on her thigh.

“I’ve been in this industry longer than you have, Yongie,” she told him, “they have to know who you are. You have to make yourself relevant.”  

Taeyong peeped outside the window and looked at the building standing right in front of them. He sought relevance, indeed. From his position, he saw tall structures with digital ads projected on them, mostly of clothing brands and what-not. He waited a few seconds, before a digital recreation of his face faded into the screen, holding an expensive perfume brand in his creamy white hands.

Not surprisingly, Taeyong was already quite relevant, what with the amount of movie deals that he had, which were all hits. He had won quite a number of prestigious awards so one could almost say that he was in demand. Everyone wanted him to be on their posters, on their movies, on their commercials. He was a rising star, which then meant that he needed to bring himself to the top. Boa was there to help him, of course, but she would not always be able to give him movie deals. That, Taeyong had to bring himself.

“Are we going, Yongie?” asked Boa, tugging at his tie, so it came loose around his neck.

He slipped a finger in his tie, twisting it looser to achieve the desired effect of laziness but style at the same time. He ran a few fingers over his frost-colored hair, a stylistic choice of his that made everyone turn their heads when they see him. If it was anyone else, they would look like a man well into his seventies, but Taeyong looked like a snow fairy that somehow ended up on the streets of earth. He was, as the tabloids would say, a feast to the eyes. Especially now, in his teal velvet suit, and the number of rings adorning his fingers.

The moment he opened the car door, he was met with a sea of camera flashes, camera lenses all pointed hungrily towards him, looking for the best next scoop. Taeyong allowed himself to stand and subtly pose for the camera for a few seconds before helping Boa out of the limousine and from there, the camera flashes doubled.

“Over here, Boa!” One of the cameramen yelled, and Taeyong quickly shielded her from those lecherous eyes.

“Let’s walk,” he whispered into her hair, hovering over her like a protective guardian. Of course, there were bodyguards all over them, but it was Taeyong’s natural instinct to want to protect one of his first friends in the industry.

She glanced over at him, then nodded. She inched closer to him as they walked, clinging onto his arm like it was a handle on a carousel ride. “You don’t have to look so menacing, Yongie,” she mumbled, her tone scolding him like an older sister. “They just want to take pictures.”

“They’re just waiting for you to make a mistake.” Taeyong put a hand on her back, as he would continuously look behind him just in case they were being followed. Thankfully, the attention was switched to the other celebrity who had arrived after them.

Usually, Taeyong would not care who the new arrival, until he heard some photographers whispering, “It’s Chittaphon” and then scrambling where the new luxurious limousine had stopped. Their expensive lenses were already pointed towards the door, waiting for their prey to come out from hiding. Taeyong saw reporters, already holding notepads so they could record whatever would appear from that limousine.

It took a while, but the elusive Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul had finally come out of hiding, sporting what looked like a dark green checkered Gucci suit, paired with shiny black shoes (Taeyong had seen it on a fashion magazine once, and he thought it looked ridiculous, but strangely it looked dashing on Chittaphon.) The man’s hair was black, his bangs styled back to reveal a little bit of his forehead. The crowd held its breath, waiting for Chittaphon’s companion, but he came with no one, as expected.

“You’ll bear holes in his head if you keep looking at him like that, Yongie,” Boa teased, poking at her boy’s cheek.

Taeyong was quickly snapped back into reality the moment he felt Boa’s sharp, meticulously manicured nail on his skin. It was embarrassing to admit, after all, that he had been caught lost in thought looking at Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. They were known to be rivals in the industry, rising at the same time, so of course Taeyong would be on the lookout for him, even though Taeyong had a little bit more edge to him in terms of popularity: he was in more movies, after all, but Chittaphon just had that edge to him.  

“…Sorry,” Taeyong dipped his head, not entirely sure who he was apologizing to.

Boa only smiled and pinched his cheek. “If you’re worried about him being better dressed than you, I personally made sure that will never happen.”

The frost-haired actor walked them both inside the venue, which was protected from every corner, with high-end security cameras and guards, so no paparazzi could come in and disrupt the privacy of the event. From there, he could see different people from every aspect of the movie industry: there were directors he knew, directors he worked with, and directors he wanted to work with. Taeyong’s eyes with glistening with excitement, despite his earlier distaste for parties. He was just happy that the people he wanted to meet were here. He could shake hands with them later on, but not before they shake hands with him first.

Someone ushers him and Boa to their table, and he thanked them. He was never one for being impolite after all. They were led to their table, which was shared with a number of Boa’s contemporaries: Jung Yunho, whom Taeyong was a huge fan of and Kim Heechul, to name a few. The others on the table were their partners, people whose names could not remember for the life of him. Most of them were over their thirties, veterans, and Taeyong felt small, sitting with them. He felt like a simple plus one, rather than an esteemed guest of the party. This was another thing Taeyong hated about these parties: he always clung to Boa, and that made him feel all the smaller, since Boa was an established star who had a name for herself. She had transcended, while Taeyong was still rising. But he had no choice, since Boa was the only person he was comfortable with – the only person he could lean on.

Boa turned to him, her voice sweet like a songbird. “Yongie, would you be a dear and get us two glasses of wine from the bar?”  

His lips thinned as they turned up into a feigned, polite smile. “Sure,” he told her, dragging his chair back so he can make an exit out of the table.

From the side of his eye, he saw one of the men on the table, Siwon, lean over and mumble Taeyong’s name to Boa, with a smirk on his face. God only knows what they could be talking about, probably his age and how unfitting he was for the woman. He could only scoff – they didn’t have anything serious going on anyway.

Taeyong purposely chose to go to the bar that was farthest from their table, so he could have a small walk to calm his nerves from the amount of mingling and small talk he had to make. He picked outdoor bar, overlooking the pool. It was mostly deserted there, since no one would want to walk that far to get there.

He knocked on the counter, to alert the bartender of his presence. He watched as the bartender was visibly taken aback by his hair color, which was a common reaction among those who weren’t used to it. Once the bartender had recovered from his small shock, he walked to the counter to ask, “What is it we want today sir?”

“Two glasses of wine, please,” he told the bartender. “Cold.”

“Coming right up,” he grinned.

Impatient, the frost-haired boy decided to look around the pool for something relaxing while the bartender was preparing their drinks. He’d love to just jump into the pool, but he wasn’t wearing an expensive suit just to have it soaked in chlorine-filled water. The pool party would have to come another day, he thought to himself. He turned the corner a little, towards the marble fountain where there was in the middle a sculpture of a lady was pouring water from a pot. Taeyong found everything peaceful and serene. He breathed in, at least now his nerves were calm.

Well, that was until he saw a familiar suit from the distance. Taeyong was no stranger to kissing in public: in this industry this was quite the common occurrence, but he wouldn’t think he’d ever see his rival sucking face _ever_ , but there he was. Taeyong just thought to ignore the fact that Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul was right in front of him, making out ferociously with a strange man, and turn away from the action. He was about to turn on his heel away from the action when suddenly he heard someone stop him.

“Wait!”

Taeyong froze in his tracks. Oh no. He was seen. That high-pitched, nasal voice could belong to no one but Chittaphon, alright. The frost-haired boy had only remembered then that he had his rival had never spoken one word to one another before that night, and he thought it would be quite strange if their first conversation would be about him catching the boy making out with a mysterious figure in the dark.

Like a quiet mouse, Taeyong hesitated to turn around, a little afraid of what he would see. Then again, thinking it would be _too_ rude to just ignore him, he spun on his heel. Plus, he wanted to hear what Chittaphon had to say about making out in a deserted area of a party. He watched Chittaphon fixing his jacket by the collar slightly, and he could see that the man’s lips were visibly swollen, and his neck was riddled in fresh red marks. From behind him appeared a larger man, perhaps six feet in height, in a sleek black suit, but not as expensive-looking as Chittaphon’s. Judging from the equipment on the fountain, the man must have been a bodyguard.

“Hey,” Chittaphon greeted, flashing his pearly whites. “You’re… Lee Taeyong, right?”

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “Maybe.”

“Don’t get so cocky,” the black-haired man narrowed his eyes, “it was a yes or no question.”

“And who are you, Mister No Manners?” Taeyong asked, with a raised eyebrow.

Chittaphon fixed his collar, visibly annoyed. “Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul.” He cleared his throat. “I need you to forget whatever you saw right now.”

“Why should I?” Taeyong crossed his arms over his chest. “No one cares if you’re gay, _Chittaphon_.” He dragged out that name like it was poison in his tongue.

“That’s not the point, _Taeyong,”_ the other actor spat back, “but if anyone finds out –”

“That you’re snogging your bodyguard? Maybe you should have thought about that before going for it.” Taeyong found it eerie how the bodyguard was just standing there, not stepping in nor trying to defend the starlet man in front of him.

“Please…” Chittaphon was not trying to be friendly anymore, the smile wiped off his face, but there was still pleading in his eyes. “I don’t want John-, ah, him to lose his job.”

He glanced over at the bodyguard behind Chittaphon, who was just nonchalantly fixing the equipment onto his suit, like there was nothing wrong between them. Like the two rising actors of the movie industry weren’t just in front of him. He wondered briefly why Chittaphon was trying to defend him so badly, but that was none of his business.

Flicking his eyes over to Chittaphon, Taeyong simply shrugged. “I don’t really care what kind of personal affairs you have.”

Under his breath, he could have sworn he heard Chittaphon tell him, “Yeah. You better.”

Taeyong returned to the bar, where the ice on the wine was already starting to melt. Without meaning to, he took another glance at the fountain but this time he no longer found Chittaphon and his bodyguard there – perhaps they transferred to somewhere more discrete, where no one could find them.

Eventually, Taeyong had returned to the table. Boa asked him where he had been, that he had taken a long time and kept her waiting. Taeyong placed the wine glasses on the table, before seizing Boa’s thigh with his hand to as an apology for being distracted along the way.

“Did you see someone?” asked Boa, her face so close to his ear that it made him shiver.

Oh _yes_ , Taeyong did see someone, but it was no esteemed director. It was his rival, making out with one of his tall bodyguards. Chittaphon being into guys came as no surprise to him, since Taeyong had his own fair share of men and women in his youth. To say the least, Taeyong was not picky when it came to the gender of those he bedded. If that person interested him, then they would easily be invited to his bedside. What did come as a surprise to him was how Chittaphon was going to risk it all just to defend himself and his bodyguard, and how strangely rude Chittaphon was being.

“…No.” Taeyong lied, sipping his red wine quietly. It was Boa’s turn to put a hand on his thigh and squeeze it for reassurance. She smiled at him, a small dimple showing on her cheek. Taeyong laced their fingers together, ignoring the world around them.

Soon, the table was drowned in conversation. Mouths, talking from every side. Boa was talking to Heechul, Siwon was attempting a conversation with Heechul’s husband, who was talking to Donghae, while Taeyong was left alone to his dessert, scraping the bottom of his plate, making sure he was not wasting a crumb. Suddenly, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Taeyong whisked his head around to see who called his attention. He was met with a gummy smile, black hair slicked back with pomade and the strong scent of Dolce and Gabbana, his other hand was holding a glass of half-finished champagne. He recognized this man: Kim Doyoung. He gave him a polite nod.

“Lee Taeyong, right?” He asked, holding a hand out for the man to shake. “I hope you aren’t busy.”

“No, no! Not at all.” Taeyong bolted from his seat, and quickly shook Doyoung’s hands with both of his. He tugged his lips upward to smile, thinking that a grin would be too eager.

This was Kim Doyoung in front of him: the newest, most sought after director in the industry right now. He was one of the youngest directors to win an Oscar at the age of twenty-six for his movie, _Cherry Bomb_ , and there he was, right in front of Taeyong. He watched the man in front of him fix his collar, then grin at him. Taeyong felt himself sweating but he had to be as presentable as possible.

“I’m a huge fan of your work,” he told the man, unable to hold his excitement back in.

With that, Doyoung stretched his lips out to another smile, wetting them with his tongue. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He gestured to the open door close by. “Would you like to have a conversation outside?”

“Of course,” replied the frost-haired boy, eagerly. He leaned quickly over to Boa, bending his arm over a chair to whisper in her ear. Understanding the situation immediately, she nodded and patted him on the shoulder, encouraging him to go.

He followed Doyoung outside the door, like an excited puppy. If Doyoung had reached out to him personally, then must be something important. Taeyong secretly crossed his fingers, hoping this was some movie offer and since it was Doyoung, he could never refuse. This would be a huge boost to his popularity.

They stopped by the balcony outside. The air was chilly as it washed over Taeyong’s face. He shivered in the cold, and he was already wearing a thick jacket. He ran his fingers through his hair to calm himself down. Doyoung was there, leaning against the railings of the balcony. From the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a golden cigarette case. He took a stick out, then lit it with his lighter.    

“Want one?” Doyoung offered, holding the case with one hand.

Taeyong took him up on that offer and the director gave him a light. They took a few moments of quiet to smoke on the balcony. The actor did it to calm his nerves down, especially right now that he was right beside a prestigious name in the industry. He had to act cool and calm.

“So,” Doyoung said, crushing the cigarette on the railing, “I guess you have a good idea why I brought you here?”

The cigarette was still in between Taeyong’s fingers, allowing the smoke to trail up to the air. “I only hope I’m right.”

Doyoung cackled. “What else could I possibly want from dragging one of the most sought-after actors outside the party proper?”

The actor gulped. He waited for Doyoung to continue, his eyes filled with curiosity.

“You look like a lost child in this light, Lee Taeyong,” Doyoung told him, “but that’s exactly what I need for my new movie.”

With that, Taeyong perked up. He crushed what was left of his cigarette near Doyoung’s discarded one and he stepped closer to the man. Doyoung was slightly taller than him, even when he was wearing insoles. He felt slightly insecure about his height at that moment, maybe he would realize that Taeyong wasn’t really what he wanted? No, he shook the thought away.

“Tell me more,” Taeyong murmured, like he was in on a secret.

“I have a new movie in the works, and we need a star,” Doyoung said, looking straight into Taeyong’s eyes, “Well, two, at that. I’ve already talked to Lee Taemin, and he took the job.”

Lee Taemin! He was Taeyong’s senior, one of the best actors of his generation. Taemin knew exactly how to captivate the audience with one stare, but he kept a calm persona outside of films. It would be an absolute privilege for Taeyong to work with him, and simply the idea of being on the same screen as Lee Taemin made him giddy. But of course, he had to know what kind of movie he was getting into.  

“What’s it about?” Taeyong asked, drawing lines on the concrete railings of the balcony, pretending to look uninterested, to test his acting skills a little.

“A novel adaptation,” Doyoung paused, to look at Taeyong’s reaction, “written by none other than Moon Taeil.”

Unable to keep his poker face in place, Taeyong gasped. “The author of ‘ _Sun and Moon_ ’?”

The director giggled, amused at how eager Taeyong was being. “That exact book, yes.”

It was a book about two male lovers in 1950s Japan who were taken apart by society’s judgmental eyes. One was a singer in a bar, and the other was a dancer at a local ballet. Taeyong had stayed up all night reading it in his free time, and shameful it may be to admit, he cried at the end when the lovers had to part due to the singer having to return to his rich family to marry a girl they wanted for him.

Taeyong thought that Doyoung was perfect for the job. The man had the talent of variety in him – _Cherry Bomb_ was an action film, but the characters there were praised for lots of heart and humor. His other film, _Summer 127_ , was a soft romantic comedy that the public loved because Doyoung took so much time and effort to get everything perfect, from the cinematography down to the sound design. He also thought that Taemin was perfect for the role of the dancer, so everything added up.

“Who will Taemin be playing?” asked Taeyong.

“Tanaka, the dancer, of course,” Doyoung said.

“And… I?”

“The singer, Tachibana,”

At this, Taeyong felt his heart lurching, but he kept it to himself. He had never played a gay role before, so this was a first for him. It would raise his name and show people what he was capable of. A challenge, indeed. How the hell can he refuse after that?

Taking a moment, he put a hand on his chin, deep in thought. “I’ll take it,” he finally said.

Doyoung clapped his hands together. “Great! I’ll have the contract sent to your agent, so you can go over it whenever you like.”

A fire ignited inside of Taeyong. This was what he needed to do, this was what he wanted to do. Something that could challenge him, and to stand alongside equally huge names like Kim Doyoung and Lee Taemin? Taeyong would never even think of passing on the opportunity. This role was for him, and for him only.  

Doyoung walked him back to the venue, where the people were now tired of talking and looking at their phones instead. Some of the tables were missing a few people here and there, and as Taeyong walked forward, he noticed the women’s clear straps and men’s shirt buttons were coming undone as the night progressed. He escorted Doyoung to his table, bowing at the prestigious men on there, before treading back to his own table.

Boa was still there, thankfully, he thought she had abandoned him. She was listening to one of Siwon’s stories, or at least pretending to, as she leaned over the table with her chin rested on her hand. Her attention was swiftly changed when she saw Taeyong’s figure looming over her. He sat back down beside her, hiding a grin.

She put her hand on his, intrigue in her voice as she whispered, “how was it?”

“He wants me to be in a movie,” Taeyong told her, trying so hard to mask how giddy he was in his voice.

“That’s wonderful, Yongie! When will you start shooting?”

Taeyong dragged his chair closer to her, so that no one else in the table would listen in. Then again, Siwon’ story sounded more interesting than anything he could ever tell them. “I have to check the contract first. But… I’m guessing… soon.”

Beaming, she ruffled his hair, like a proud older sister. Taeyong pouted – the stylist took a lot of time to get that hair right and she’ll just ruin it like that. But no matter, the evening was starting to wane – hair was expected to be undone by this time, and Taeyong thought himself fitting any kind of hairstyle, be it messy or brushed back. He checked his Rolex watch, and saw that it was already well into the middle of the night. He wondered how time had passed so quickly.

He excused himself from the table first, to get himself a small glass filled with delicious cheesecake from the desserts table, when he stumbled across a familiar acquaintance from what felt like an eternity ago, when it had only been a few hours. The atrocious Gucci suit was a look he would never forget, especially on this particular person.

“Lee Taeyong,” said the man, with that distinguishable nasal quality in this tone.

Taeyong, glass of cheesecake in hand, wondered if he should just ignore the man entirely or acknowledge him just so he wouldn’t be rude. He sighed, then spoke, “Chittaphon.” He could not, for the love of him, remember how to say his last name. “Where’s your… companion?”

“He’s not here, _obviously_ ,” Chittaphon said, with an edge to his tone.  

“And here I thought you’d be clinging to each other like horny teenagers.”

Chittaphon feigned a smile, almost catlike. “Hm. At least I’m not clinging to a successful woman only for her money.”

Suddenly, Taeyong saw red all around him. He clenched his fist, drawing his veins out. Never did he ever want to punch someone in the face so badly. “Say that again.”

“With pleasure,” Chittaphon cleared his throat, before repeating what he said – this time louder than before.

Taeyong surged forward, taking Chittaphon by the collars of his expensive suit jacket. Hell, he didn’t care if he crumpled the clothing. He wanted to crumple Chittaphon’s face with his fist.

“Little boy can’t handle the truth?” Taunted Chittaphon, a smirk smeared on his face.

Was this vengeance for ignoring his pleas earlier, Taeyong thought mentally? The frost-haired man was leaning down slightly, his teeth gritted. He had lost the glass of cheesecake somewhere on the ground in the heat of his rage. To say that he was only after Boa for the money! How dare this man! God, and he thought he couldn’t hate Chittaphon any more than he already did. The man was a snake, like everyone else in the industry.

“Mommy’s here,” said the shorter man.

The actor loosened his grip when he heard the clicking of heels and the smell of familiar rose perfume coming his way. There was a slender, gloved hand on his shoulder, gripping at the jacket to pull Taeyong back.

“Yongie!” Boa exclaimed, scolding him. She glanced at Chittaphon, who bowed at her as he was trying to fix his shirt. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Taeyong growled. “Nothing, let’s just get out of here.”

He could see Chittaphon looking at them, with eyes like a cheetah, judging its prey. Taeyong pulled Boa away by the arm to the exit leading to the outside. He did not give the man even a glare. She was carrying her Louis Vuitton clutch, which meant that she was just about ready to leave. Perhaps the men at the table had dispersed and she was left to look for Taeyong amidst the crowd.

“I already called our ride,” she told him, “it’s just waiting by the parking lot.”

His grip on her arm was still strong, not wanting to unhand her. His eyes were still filled with the rage that Chittaphon ignited. He wasn’t unfamiliar with assholes in the industry, but to think that Chittaphon would be the one that could make his skin crawl. God, it’s official. He hated that man.

“Let’s go home,” he deadpanned.

She looped an arm around his, concerned for her companion’s wellbeing. She told him where the limousine was parked, thankfully it was close by so Taeyong would not have any encounters with a certain loathed contemporary of his. This time, since it was darker, the frost-haired boy would definitely swing an uppercut without anyone having to witness it. Well… if his bodyguard boyfriend would allow it, anyway.

They were back in the darkness of the car, and Taeyong felt safe among the empty bottles of champagne and the curtains that draped along the sides to cover them. He poured himself a glass of cold champagne to rid his mind of the complete snake that was Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. Boa rubbed her hand on his back, to reassure him.

“He got to you, didn’t he?” Boa murmured. “You know that whatever he said isn’t true, right?”

“…How do you even know what he said?”

“I know you, Yongie,” she chuckled, fixing the hair that fell over his face, “and you never get that livid for yourself.”

Taeyong sighed as he took Boa’s hand in his. He removed the silk glove slowly, so he could press a kiss on her bare fingers. “I just don’t like our relationship being raked through the mud like that, _noona_ ,” he told her.

She put both of their hands down to their laps and heaved a sigh. Then, she put a hand on his cheek, warming it there. “You know what’s true and what’s not, Taeyong.”

He took some time to stare at her, hesitant to make any moves for a moment. Then, his eyes flung to the dimples on her cheek, her high cheekbones. Boa was someone he treasured, even if there was no money or gifts involved, she would still be one of his favorite people. He trusted her, after all. Then, she was sighing, and so was he.

The ride home consisted of mostly of open-mouthed kisses, and Taeyong might have left a few of his marks on Boa’s collarbone. She was also a vice Taeyong could not easily quit. He had grown extremely attached to her, and sometimes their bodies were their happy places. Was it wrong? No, Taeyong was a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. He was also smart enough not to fall in love with the woman before him. Their bodies were their refuge, indeed, like a cigarette or a cup of hot cocoa every night – indulgence. But it wasn’t like Taeyong couldn’t refuse her. It was a conscious choice for him to be in her arms, with his lips on her neck.

“Goodnight, Yongie.” She waved goodbye as soon as the limousine had stopped at Taeyong’s condominium. Taeyong pulled her into a tight embrace before calling it a night.

The elevator ride up to his room felt like an eternity. He lived in an opulent apartment. Far too spacious for one person, but just enough room for Taeyong to stretch and be himself. Sometimes he would invite Boa over, yet most of the time he liked to be alone. He peeled his clothes off one by one until his expensive suit was all but a bunch of dirty laundry on the floor. He went to his closet and picked a fluffy robe he could lounge around in before he would check his phone for new e-mails (hopefully Doyoung’s contract.)

Much to his amusement, there was an e-mail for him from his agent with the subject (big surprise): “Sun and Moon Contract.” Taeyong sat himself down on his plush couch and crossed his legs as he read the PDF provided by Doyoung’s team. It was of a reasonable length, about ten digital pages. It was addressed to him, Lee Taeyong, playing the role of Tachibana, the singer.

He scrolled down further and found that the producer was Doyoung as well, which only sparked Taeyong’s interest more. The contract specified when the principal photography would start, which was two weeks from now, but he would be needed no later than three weeks from then. Then, compensation. Taeyong did not come cheap, and Doyoung offered a nice amount.

After those paragaraphs were things that Taeyong only skimmed – it was the usual, the warranty the artist had, what the artist would be doing, and how he would be credited in the film. Being the main role, Taeyong expected to be getting top billing, unless Doyoung would make changes to give highlight to a veteran actor, but he doubted it greatly. Logically, the only person other than himself who would receive the honors of top billing would be Taemin.  

He took out his stylus and quickly signed the bottom of the contract, for a tentative confirmation that _yes_ he wanted this. He wanted this role, and no one else but him was fitted for it. Taeyong was more of an action star, after all, but he wanted the public to know that he was capable of so much more. He was capable of being nuanced and subtle, which the role needed. He was grateful Doyoung gave him a chance.

The next days were filled with boring discussions over Doyoung’s office table. There were lots of people there, from the casting director, his agent, Jung Jaehyun, down to the other actors Doyoung had hired, like Bae Joohyun and Kim Taeyeon, except, suspiciously, for Lee Taemin. Perhaps the man was busy, which wouldn’t be surprising, thus he couldn’t make it to the meetings. In his place was his agent, Kibum. On the side, Kibum and Doyoung would be whispering to each other, and Doyoung would have a disappointed look on his face. That made Taeyong a little suspicious, but he kept his grievances to himself.

When all the papers were signed, he was given congratulations by the rest of the staff and the people in that room. This would be his first time working with all these people, so he was excited, and with a leading role as well. He was ecstatic to say the least. To calm himself down, he gave Boa a phone call to tell her about everything he was feeling then: a bit queasy but at the same time extremely giddy. She only giggled at him but ominously told him, “The worst is yet to come, Yongie.” They ended the call at that strange, sour note, which Taeyong decided to shake off, but not entirely. He kept it in mind.  

Once the discussions were over, all that was left for Taeyong to worry about was his first shoot, which was in a few weeks. Taeyong had time to memorize his script, then, which was given to him during the meeting. The script was co-written by none other than Moon Taeil, but most of the writing credit was given to the famous screenwriter Nakamoto Yuta, which was fitting for the Japanese setting. Taeyong spent countless nights memorizing the lines, rehearsing them in front of a mirror.

There were sex scenes in the script, which he had to keep in mind – the movie was, after all, an erotic one. Doyoung was aiming for an R rating at most, so that the audiences would be interested enough to go to the theatres and check it out for themselves. He wondered how good his chemistry with Taemin would be, and if they could pull off those scenes well – but since Doyoung handpicked them both, he saw lots of potential for the two of them together.

Time passed, Taeyong had photoshoots and commercial shoots left and right but he had also memorized almost all his lines. This was a project he could never pass up – this was something that he’d been wanting since the start of his career: something that would challenge him, something that would make moviegoers cry, something that could show how much of a good actor he was. Better than that Chittaphon, anyway.

In the morning of the first shoot, Boa was with him in his apartment. They did not sleep with each other, Taeyong merely requested her company for the night, their limbs tangled while Boa sang him a lullaby to serenade him into a deep, soft slumber. He woke to the scent of her fabric conditioner, which was better than waking to empty sheets.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” She asked him, wrapping herself up nicely with his velvet bathrobe as she stood by the door frame.

Taeyong shook his head. He did not need any other people to taunt him for bringing Boa to the first day of shooting, and he really did not want anyone using Boa’s name against him. He was fine – he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. Jung Jaehyun, his agent, was going with him anyway so everything should be fine.

“Yongie?” She whispered before he turned away from her to walk to the hallway.

He looked at her. “Yes, _noona_?”

She patted him on the shoulder and swatted a stray strand of eyelash hair from his face. “Behave yourself out there.”

He kissed her gently on the forehead. “I swear I will.”

The ride to the studio was a quiet one. It was at least an hour away, so Taeyong had time to stare at the sights there was before him. Mostly buildings and billboards – prettier at night once strewn out with the city lights, but right now they simply looked bland. Beside him was his agent, Jung Jaehyun: a good friend of his that he had known since university.

“You feel nervous, Yong?” He asked, not even looking at him as he tapped diligently on his tablet.

“Why should I be?” Taeyong answered with a hint of confidence.

At that, Jaehyun laughed. “They’re expecting a lot from you, Yongie.”

“Which only adds to my ego, really,” he joked, before staring out the window again, imagining himself the protagonist of a dramatic music video.

When they had finally arrived at the studio, everyone was busy. The prop makers were busy making the finishing touches to the set, while the cameramen were checking all their equipment, making sure everything was in tip top shape. As soon as Taeyong had arrived, he was lobbied to his dressing room where his stylists and makeup artists were waiting for him. He wasn’t late, of course, they were simply just early.

He sat in front of a mirror with multiple light bulbs lining its frame. The chair had the label “Taeyong” pasted on its back, so they would know that this was his chair alone. Taeyong gripped at the chair’s arms, heaving his breath. He had to be civil, he had to show that he was not as excited as he truly was right now, though he felt like his heart might explode at any second.

His makeup artist, whose name was Kim Jungwoo, told him that he needed to lose the Jack Frost hair quickly for the role, which he had agreed upon. He had to look the part after all, and he would not exactly fit the role of a youthful bar singer if he looked like a young grandpa. Jungwoo took care of it all, and soon enough his hair was brown, but the tone of honey. He looked earthly, more approachable, and it suited his tanned skin tone a little more. Then, once his hair was done, the soft-spoken makeup artist went on to do what he did best – paint the face. Since this was a more realistic film, the makeup was toned down, simple, slight eyeliner here and there, but of course Taeyong still needed to look impeccable for the cameras.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. He wondered if it was Dong Sicheng, the costume designer with the clothes he needed to wear for today.

“Come in,” Taeyong called. Jungwoo scolded him with a pat on the chest, for talking while his lip balm was being applied.

It was Wong Yukhei, one of the casting directors, who was checking up one of his lead actors. His lips were pressed together but upturned, like he was sneaking into the room unannounced. There was hesitation in his face when he opened his mouth to talk to Taeyong.

“Do you want the bad news or the good news first?” Yukhei asked.  

“…Bad news,” Taeyong answered, his heart suddenly racing. Was he getting fired or…?

There was a moment of silence, it was clear that the news Yukhei wanted to tell was not an easy one to say, with how he was folding and unfolding his lips. He was looking at the ground, and Taeyong just wanted to make him spit it out.

“Just say it, Xuxi,” Jungwoo said, exasperated. It seems like they knew each other, for Jungwoo to be that comfortable around him.

Yukhei, startled, suddenly blurted out, “Taemin can’t make it.”

Taeyong stopped breathing for a moment. His eyes widened. “Huh?”

“But it’s okay, man. We got it covered, man,” Yukhei said, holding a hand out so that Taeyong would not rouse up, “here’s the good news.”

The now-brunette gulped, gripping hard into the armrest for what Yukhei was about to say next.

“We had back-up. His name is Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul, you know him, right?” The tall man grinned, as if saying Chittaphon’s name was a saving grace, while Taeyong was turning pale. “He’ll be Taemin’s replacement, and Doyoung is pretty much confident in him.”

Taeyong fell back in his seat, a wave of nausea rushing through him. Of all the people he would share the same screen with, it _had_ to be that blasted Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul. He wondered if it was too late to back out from the project, but then he wanted this. He wanted this role – only _he_ can be Tachibana, even if that means he would have to live with Chittaphon being Tanaka. Professionalism, after all, is a skill.

“Will he be filming today?” asked Taeyong slowly, like he was tiptoeing.

Yukhei glanced at his phone, checking something. “Yeah. It’s the screen test today after all. We’ll see if you both have good chemistry together.”

He felt his blood run cold. “And if not?”

“Doubt it. Doyoung thinks you two would work really well together,” Yukhei told him before flashing a wide grin.

Well, it would be quite surprising for one Kim Doyoung to see that all he wants to do with Chittaphon is to yank all his hair out. Can he even dance?! How can he play Tanaka if he can’t even dance! Taeyong’s head was riddled in questions. But all he had to remember was that he was a first choice, and Chittaphon was only a replacement.

Finally, the head costume designer, Dong Sicheng, burst into his dressing room. Taeyong’s mood quickly lifted up. Sicheng was carrying what looked like a brown worn down suit but Taeyong gazed at it like it was one of those designer ones Boa had gifted him for galas before. That was for him, for Tanaka, rather. He was excited.  

“For Lee Taeyong,” Sicheng held it up with a little smile on his small face.

“Me?” Taeyong asked, feigning surprise.

Jungwoo patted him gently on the cheek, chuckling. “Go change now, big boy.”  

With that, Taeyong rose from his seat and held his arms out to receive his first costume for the movie and good God was he thrilled. Sicheng let him have it, his face filled with pride at his work. Taeyong meticulously took the costume to the changing area and quickly slipped into it. It didn’t even take him more than a minute to change into it. The costume fit him like a glove, or rather his character, like a glove: kind of loose, kind of old. He emerged from the changing area and everyone in the room gasped.

“I told you Doyoung knows how to pick people,” Sicheng said, nodding with approval.

“Yeah, you know that’s _my_ job, actually,” Yukhei replied to his defense, “but I have to agree. Taeyong is Tachibana.” Then, he heard a beeping from his phone. “And that’s Doyoung, he wants you to see Chittaphon on set.”


	2. act two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi! sorry for the long wait! thank you so much for the comments, i really love reading them and thank you for the support for this fic. aaaa please enjoy the chapter <3

Taeyong was dreading every minute of this. That night at the party, he was firm in his decision to hate Chittaphon until the end of time. And he will still hate that goddamned Chittaphon, even if it means being civil to him while the filming was going on. Despite all this, the staff did not know about his unadulterated loathing for Chittaphon, so he was escorted to the set by them.

“Lee Taeyong,” drawled the voice that Taeyong detested more than anything in the world. He sounded like the hypnotizing snake from _The Jungle Book_ , only less seductive and more insufferable.

Taeyong would be lying if he thought Chittaphon wasn’t, at the very least, appealing in his get-up. He was already made up and styled. He wore a tight, sleeveless leotard that showed off his toned arms matched with black dance pants that hugged his thin thighs. Across his shoulders was a coat, though he didn’t slip his arms into them, they just draped on his back. His hair was tousled and teased, like he had been dancing for hours and did not bother to comb it back.  

“Chittaphon,” Taeyong dragged out in return, like scraping a cigarette butt against concrete.

He felt the room get colder as their glares grew more and more intense. Even the staff could notice the amount of tension between them, which was only cut by Doyoung clapping his hands so everyone’s attention would be on him. The two lead actors whipped their heads around at the same time. Doyoung was in a simple get-up, khaki pants and an Armani turtleneck sweater, but his presence was astounding. Every step of his made a sound on the concrete, resounding through the halls. Taeyong didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until he exhaled.

So this was it – he’ll get to work with Kim Doyoung, finally. It doesn’t matter if he’s with the most insufferable co-star in the world, this was _Kim Doyoung,_ and his professionalism would be put to the test in this one.  

“I’m glad to see you’re both getting along,” Doyoung said, his voice laced with a little bit of sarcasm. “Have you both met before?”

Taeyong quickly flashed back to the image of Chittaphon’s tongue running down his bodyguard’s neck, then his shit-eating smirk when he accused Taeyong of using Boa only for money. He remembered the rage he felt and how, at that moment, he definitely wanted to strangle this man. He glanced at Chittaphon, who only poked an eyebrow upwards at him, anticipating his answer.

“No,” Taeyong told him, slowly.

Even if he hated the man, explaining how they met would take more time and Taeyong had to be creative about it. He threw another glance at Chittaphon, who agreed with him. Everyone else in the room knew they were both lying though, with the amount of thick tension there was between them.

“But surely, you’ve heard of each other?” Doyoung prodded on.

“Of course!” Chittapon piped up, suddenly chipper, but Taeyong wasn’t fooled. “Who hasn’t heard of the great Lee Taeyong? The rising star with plenty of nuance, who made a wonderful lead in _The 7 th Sense._ I’m sure with his talent in acting and wherever else,” he shot a knowing look at him, “he has all the security he needs to flourish.”

And Taeyong knew exactly what he meant by that. He was taunting him about Boa again. What was his problem? Taeyong’s personal life was his own, who the hell cares if he was sleeping with the woman? It’s none of his business, and none of anyone’s business for that matter. But, the fact that Chittaphon gave a small monologue about him only gives him the challenge to lie his ass off about the other actor as well.

He smiled slightly, in preparation for his bluff. “I have heard of the great Chittaphon Lee – forgive me, I cannot pronounce your last name properly – and his acting endeavors. I’m a huge fan. I’ve watched some of his movies, like _Open The Door_ , a riveting performance. His acting made me see that some secrets shouldn’t be kept secrets.”   

From his peripheral vision, he could see Chittaphon’s eyes widening for a split second. He felt the man roll his shoulders, and his lips were pressed together, like he was about to retort but couldn’t, since he would reveal himself. Taeyong nodded at Chittaphon, feigning respect. If he tried to attack Boa, then it would only make sense that he went for the bodyguard as well.  

“Alright,” Doyoung folded his hands together again. “Schmoozing over, now let’s get to work.”

The director gestured over to the set, which was a worn down living room. The walls were brown, the wallpaper a little torn. There was a couch in the middle of it, probably cheap and bought off some furniture store that didn’t have a brand. A table was set in front of the couch, with a single empty vase in the middle of it. This was Tachibana’s apartment, most likely. He was a humble man, and singing didn’t really pay well – but he wanted to make the most out of his dream, so starve he did. Taeyong needed to channel all of that into his performance.

“I want to test your chemistry,” the director told them firmly. “Though I do have faith in both of you, I want to see how much we have to work with.”

Taeyong gulped. He doesn’t know how well they would work onscreen, since they had never been together before. But, if this Chittaphon wanted the role that bad, then he was sure that he’ll give it his all. Chittaphon combed his hair with his hand, as if he was already ready. Doyoung snapped his fingers, alerting the camera man to bring the camera closer to the couch.

“Do a love scene,” Doyoung told them, “as your characters. Surely, you both have no problem with that?”

“None,” Taeyong quipped.

“Absolutely not,” said Chittaphon, at the same time.

They were both lying their mouths off and soon Taeyong felt like Chittaphon’s long nose would only grow longer. They stepped into the set, and Taeyong was already in character. He had softened, while he felt Chittaphon grew more confident with every step he look, even his way of walking changed. He really looked like a dancer.

“The scenario is that you’re both tired from everything that had happened, be it from work, or a fight, up to you, and then you both want to bask in each other’s arms,” Doyoung told them.

Taeyong looked at Chittaphon, who stared at him back. Now, they were Tachibana and Tanaka, two roles being played by the actors. They had to set aside their personal grievances for each other and slip into the shoes of two characters who are deeply and devastatingly in love. Taeyong inhaled and exhaled, removing himself from his skin and letting Tachibana take him over. The camera was pointing at them, anticipating their every move.

The brunette, as Tachibana, held his hand out, to Chittaphon, as Tanaka, who merely ignored it, but with a smirk on his face. He was already in acting mode as he pranced around the room, as if wanting Taeyong to chase him. If this weren’t Chittaphon, this would have been absolutely charming. The other actor laughed and begun chasing him around the set, before Tachibana wrapped his arms around Tanaka, closing his arms so he wouldn’t be able to get out. Tanaka laughed, and pressed his head on Tachibana’s shoulder. Tachibana moved his hands down, so they would be wrapped around the dancer’s slim waist. The singer’s lips were starting to flutter along Tanaka’s neck, pressing soft kisses on the skin. Then, he removed himself from the dancer’s body, and took his hand.

“Couch,” he merely said, and the other understood.

Tanaka, with eyes that balanced between coquettish and innocent, nodded. Tachibana sat himself down on the couch and Tanaka quickly followed, locking his knees around the singer’s waist, straddling him. The dancer’s hands were working on buttoning down the dancer’s shirt, so he could warm his chest with his hands. Tachibana only sighed, his lips parted, asking for a kiss.

So, they did, as Tanaka dived in and pressed their lips together.

“Cut!” Doyoung told them.

Taeyong quickly snapped out of his trance earlier – he was back to being Taeyong again, and Chittaphon had all but leapt out from his lap like a frog in the rain. Taeyong remained seated, hands arranged nicely on his lap to hide the excitement in this pants after all _that_. Doyoung was looking at the monitor now, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes in deep focus. He was watching their scene from the different camera angles there was. There was a hand on his chis, his lips were pursed.

“You both look astounding together,” he said, still not looking at them but at the screen. “Your faces compliment each other well.”

The recording came to a halt, and Doyoung’s eyes were like an owl’s, cold and calculating. Taeyong felt himself sweating, so he stood up before shoving his hands into his pockets, anticipating the director’s next words. Chittaphon had his hands clasped at his front as well, swaying back and forth.

Doyoung sighed. “But, I believe the both of you don’t have enough chemistry together yet.”

With that, Taeyong felt himself sinking. It was true, of course, that he and Chittaphon did not like each other at all, but he didn’t think they wouldn’t be believable as lovers. He thought they could fake it well enough, but perhaps Doyoung wasn’t satisfied.

“Now, I would absolutely hate if I had to replace one of you with another because I believe you are the perfect fit for your roles.” He continued, stepping closer to them, his voice gentle but menacing at the same time, “but I’m afraid I would have to, if you don’t fix this little problem.”

The honey-haired actor felt his knees weaken – he absolutely cannot lose this role. He needs this. He needs to boost his image and to show off his acting skills. He looked over to Chittaphon, and thought that it was his fault for being such an asshole during the party – if he wasn’t so rude, perhaps they would be more believable as a couple.

Doyoung reached out and then held both of their hands, grasping them tight. “I want you both to spend more time together. Rehearse together.”  

Taeyong gulped again, having to spend more time with the man he hates the most would not be the best idea in the world. They both might end up with mussed up hair and a dozen bruises on their skin, and not in the pretty way. He can’t wait to go back home

“Will do,” Chittaphon said, his eyes twinkling.

Taeyong held back rolling his eyes. “If you say so, Doyoung,” he quipped as well.

Doyoung let go of both their hands, satisfied. “Maybe you should try running your lines together? Try to get into each other’s wavelengths?”

They exchanged glances again. Taeyong was definitely not looking forward to this, and yet Chittaphon was flashing the fakest smile he had ever seen. His lips were stretched out from ear to ear, and Taeyong thought it was just to show off how atrociously white his teeth were.

“Sure,” Taeyong agreed reluctantly.

“Will do, sir,” said Chittaphon, grinning.

Taeyong could never trust Chittaphon, with how fake he was being. He could never forget the darkness in his eyes during the party, and he was absolutely sure this was someone he had to keep his guard up with all the time. Even if he acted all professional this time.

“Alright,” Doyoung nodded to the door at the right side of the room, “rehearse over there. Yukhei will supervise your performances…” he paused to look at their costumes, “but change first.”

They both nodded again. Then, they were dragged back into their individual dressing rooms. Taeyong quickly changed back into his outfit earlier and returned the costume back to Sicheng, right after thanking him for all the hard work. He sat back into his chair infront of the vanity. Then, with a swab of cotton doused in micellar water, Jungwoo carefully wiped the makeup off his face.

“You did well, Taeyongie,” Jungwoo said as he rubbed the eyeshadow off his eyelid, “but you really need to work on your chemistry with Chittaphon.”

“Was the kiss not hot enough?” Taeyong asked, curiously.

Jaehyun, who happened to be standing on the other side of the room, hummed. He nearly made Taeyong jump.

“Holy fuck, Jae, at least let everyone know you’re there,” the brunette scolded.

“Sorry!” Jaehyun apologized with a wide grin on his face, “but you definitely need to make your bond more believable. I know you and Chittaphon are strangers, you probably only met today, but you still have time to work on it. In my opinion, you’ll work better with Chittaphon than Taemin, anyway.”

“We can respectfully disagree on that opinion, Jae,” Taeyong said, “I think Taemin and I would make much better partners.”

“You wish.”

Jungwoo stretched up when the last bit of makeup was finally wiped off of Taeyong’s face. Then, he reached over to his makeup box to get a little bit of lip balm, so Taeyong still looked fresh and kissable when Yukhei would call them both in for rehearsals. He tossed Taeyong’s fringe upwards, so that it looked tousled. He smiled, admiring his work proudly, just before Taeyong’s phone went off.

“Alright, that’s Yukhei,” Taeyong said as he looked at his phone.   

Taeyong stood up and fixed his shirt a little in front of the mirror. He had to look his best, so at least Chittaphon would have nothing to say against him. He needed to look perfect, and thanks to Jungwoo, his hair was styled to perfection, even if he wanted to have that effortless kind of visage on him.

“Thanks, Jungwoo.” He gave the man a pat on the shoulder.

Jungwoo bowed his head in return. “My pleasure.”

Then, he spun around his heel and headed for the door. He felt a little nervous so he shook himself a little, to keep himself alert and steady. He held the script securely under his arm as he swung the door open, expecting some sort of blank white room containing only Yukhei and Chittaphon. To his surprise, it was a homey room with mint green walls and what looked like a plush couch leaning on the wall and a table in front of it. He was the first to arrive, so he made himself comfortable on the seat.

The next to appear from the door was Chittaphon, and Taeyong merely scowled at him. Following Chittaphon was Yukhei, with the loudest greeting Taeyong had heard all day. The man was a huge ball of energy, his voice was always loud and booming and he exuded such a warm and friendly aura. Taeyong liked him a lot, and he wish he could say the same about the actor sitting next to him. He was wearing more clothes now, in fact he was covered from head to toe with a black Balenciaga coat.

“Okay!” Yukhei said, slamming his own copy of the script on the table before opening to see which parts he wanted to rehearse with them. “I think the best scenes to rehearse are the ones with the most emotion, but since we can’t pull that off yet with your chemistry… lacking… we can do the softer scenes first.”

“The softer ones?” Chittaphon asked, scanning his script for said scenes. “Like the one where Tachibana and Tanaka first meet at the bar?”

“Precisely,” spoke Yukhei, pointing right at the scene on the script.

Taeyong quickly sifted to the pages to get to where he should be: it was a bar scene, Tachibana had just finished his performance and the next that went up the stage was the attractive dancer Tanaka. They would bump into each other, and from there, the sparks would fly.

“Okay, Chittaphon,” Yukhei said, “stand over there,” he pointed to the space in front of him, “and say your lines.”

They both stepped forward, holding their scripts. Yukhei had his eyes carefully trained on them. Taeyong really didn’t need the script, since he thought he had memorized all his lines. He was diligently learning them for an entire week, plus he learned all the songs he needed to sing for the movie, most of them some golden Japanese songs, but there were some English ones too. They were both in position, and Chittaphon was standing in front of him, holding his script out with his back straight.

“You go first?” asked the Thai boy.

“…Sure.”

The brunette shuffled his feet to prepare himself. Then, in the guise of Tachibana, he spoke, “Oh, hello.”

“That’s… not the line,” Chittaphon deadpanned, pointing to the script.

“The hell do you mean?” Taeyong opened his copy, and he hated to admit it but the man was right: he said he wrong line.

“Yeah, I think it’s better if you both just read through the lines, it’s fine,” intervened Yukhei.

“That’s what I planned to do from the start, Yukhei.”

Taeyong could swear that he saw Chittaphon sneer at him while saying that. He shook his head, and proceeded to read the correct line, with the same hesitance Tachibana was supposed to have for the scene. They were to meet for the first time, and this scene was important because it was going to set off the sparks for the couple. Chittaphon pretended to walk towards him, and Taeyong pretended to bump into him. Yukhei nodded, motioning them to go on.

“Hi,” he said, correctly now.

Chittaphon glanced down at his script, then spoke, with urgency in his tone, “I’m in a hurry.”

There was a pause. “Are you going up there?”

Another pause. Chittaphon’s eyes scanned him up and down, and Taeyong saw the rise and fall of his Adam’s apple. “What does it matter to you?”  

“I…” Taeyong, as Tachibana, hesitated. “Good luck.”

Chittaphon chuckled and said, “I don’t need it.”

Then he mimed going up the stairs to the pretend stage and he started… dancing. There was no music, only the sound of the air conditioner and his feet shuffling on the floor as he moved his limbs. Taeyong watched in awe as his body bent backwards and forwards with ease, his toes were pointed. He glanced at Yukhei, wondering if he should stop Chittaphon’s dancing, but he was entranced as well. He was wrong about Chittaphon not knowing how to dance, because this man knew exactly how to move his body.

Maybe now Taeyong would think that he maybe… is… fitting for the role of Tanaka. Chittaphon made multiple spins towards him and stopped in front of him. He imagined Tanaka was on a stage and Tachibana was watching him from the first row. He hated to admit it, but the view was beautiful. Chittaphon traced a finger along Taeyong’s sharp jawline, then finished his dance. He jumped, as if hopping down from the stage to stand in front of the singer.

He shot a look at his script, then said, with bright confidence, “Like what you saw?”

Taeyong didn’t need to look at the script, for the next line he was about to say was one of his favorites. He said it slowly, with care: “Would I repel you if I said I did?”   

With that, Chittaphon smirked, “I am not a fly that could so easily be repelled by a gaze like yours.”

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a loud “cut!” from Yukhei.

“You guys aren’t even trying!” The tall man groaned, burying his face in his hair. Personally, Taeyong thought that his performance was fine and maybe he thought Chittaphon was decent as well. Still, he stared at Yukhei, waiting for an elaboration. “You aren’t doing Moon Taeil’s lines justice!”

Taeyong, confused, wished to retort, but he knew that Yukhei knew much better than he did so he just stood there, waiting to be criticized. He watched how upset Yukhei was, and there was only Chittaphon to blame, for his lackluster performance. He raised an eyebrow at the ravenette, who only rolled his eyes back at him.

“Good performance, by the way, Chittaphon,” Yukhei said, “but it still needed some more work. You guys need to have passion.” Then, Yukhei’s phone rang right in the middle of his rant. “Ugh, damn. Doyoung needs me to sort out some extras. I’ll be back so please try running those lines again.” He bolted through the door and started sprinting like an Olympic runner.

So, Taeyong and Chittaphon were left alone together. Taeyong waited who would throw the first stone in this silent feud. Their hands were tucked neatly in front of them, and they both almost looked like the best, most well-behaved boys a director could ask for. It wasn’t until Taeyong turned around that Chittaphon spoke.

“ _Maybe_ if you weren’t such a mediocre actor, we wouldn’t need to run the lines again.”

Taeyong put his hands on his hips, his face trying to hide the offense in his expression. “Excuse me?”

“I said what I said.”

“You know _Chittaphon_ , a little humility goes a long way. Just because Yukhei praised you once, doesn’t mean he’ll praise you all the time.”

“Yes, but at least he praised me once,” Chittaphon shrugged. “That’s one for me and none for you.”

Taeyong scrunched his nose up. “Are you always this obnoxious?”

“Only to those who deserve it.”

“And why do I have to honor of “deserving” your obnoxiousness?”

Chittaphon hummed, faking a smile as well. “You had the privilege of seeing me and my bodyguard together.”

Taeyong slammed the script onto the table, exhausted. “I told you that I wouldn’t tell a goddamn soul!”

“The thing is, Lee Taeyong, people lie! Like _you_ lie about not using your little sugar mommy for only money, gifts and status,”

With that, Taeyong couldn’t hold himself back anymore and grabbed the smaller man by the collar, raising himself a little. If he was stopped by Boa the first time in the party, this time there would be no one to stop him from beating Chittaphon’s pretty little face to a pulp. Still, Chittaphon remained unfazed.

“What’s going on in here?”

In the heat of their argument, they had not noticed that someone had entered the rehearsal room. The voice belong to none other than the director himself, in the flesh, watching his two best actors having a feud with each other. Taeyong quickly removed his hands from Chittaphon’s clothes. He waited to Chittaphon to act like the victim again, but he waited… and nothing happened.

“I demand to know what’s going on here.” His voice boomed throughout the room, that it staggered Taeyong backwards.

“Surprise, Doyoung,” Chittaphon conceded, “me and Taeyong aren’t exactly the best of friends.”

“Clearly,” deadpanned the director. Then, his cold visage suddenly changed. “But then that only makes the chemistry all the more interesting. When two people hate each other, the sexual tension would rise.” A sigh. “Make use of that, but for the love of god please don’t try to kill each other.”

They exchanged cold glances, then said in unison, “We won’t.”

“And be professional. Take your fights elsewhere just not here. Here, you’re portraying lovers. So while now I know you both hate each other’s guts, at least give me the opposite of that when you’re on camera, okay?”

“Sure,” in unison, again.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Doyoung pointed to the both of them, before going out of the room.

There was a round of dead air between the two of them, before Yukhei scampered back into the practice room. He was panting hard, having one from one part of the studio to the other, it had been a hard day for him. The least they could do was make the day less harder for him. They had tried the scene again, only with a little bit more passion that they had channeled from the hatred they had for each other.  

Then, after the rehearsal, Yukhei asked Chittaphon if he could dance with Taeyong. It was then that perhaps It was the first time Taeyong thought Chittaphon was his version of attractive. This was also the first time he saw that Chittaphon was… gorgeous, even when he’s just swinging his arms around in faux dance. Of course, he would never admit it, especially not to his co-star’s face. So, instead, he would let his character speak.

“Gorgeous,” Tachibana spoke, breathless.

For a moment, Taeyong couldn’t quite pinpoint if he was projecting through his character, but at least Chittaphon will never know. He does not have to know, anyway. Yukhei soon dismissed them after about one more hour of rehearsal, and then he was told to go to another room so he could rehearse with the other actors and actresses.

Along the way to the next rehearsal room, Taeyong saw Chittaphon’s favorite bodyguard, with slick jet black hair that matched so well with his sleek black suit. He had not realized how tall the man actually was until he stood in front of him, then Taeyong would have to tilt his head slightly.

He noticed that the man was in a hurry to go somewhere, perhaps to Chittaphon’s practice rooms, but he was going the wrong way, if he was. Then suddenly, when he heard a familiar shuffle of shoes on the cold floor, he hid behind a pillar.   

“Where were you?”

That accent was unmistakably Chittaphon. What was he doing out of rehearsal?

“Your uncle made me run some errands,” the taller man explained.

Taeyong really shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he couldn’t help himself. He pressed his back onto the pillar, so he could hear a little better. If he made any steps, then they would immediately know that he was somewhere in the vicinity, so he stayed put.

“Errands?” Chittaphon snorted, “you’re my bodyguard, John. It’s your job to be around me all the goddamn time! What if…” He paused, and sighed. “What if my uncle knows?”

John muttered something but it did not sound positive. Taeyong heard feet staggering backwards, perhaps someone heard something shocking.

“What the hell do you mean my uncle found out?”

“It’s just a hunch, Ten,” said the man, “but I think… I think we need to just…”

“Just what?”

“…Stop.”

With that, Taeyong heard no other replies. He only heard Chittaphon running towards the hallway to go somewhere, probably to cry or to rehearse, either of the two. Meanwhile, he could hear the bodyguard going the other direction, not to chase Chittaphon, but to find the nearest exit, perhaps.

Rehearsals with Chittaphon were painfully awkward from then on, since he did not know how to act around him anymore, especially knowing all that information. He especially did not want to pry about how puffy his co-star’s eyes were one morning (he knew it was because of crying.) But… at least there was a party coming up that would keep his mind off everything for a while, or so he thought.

Another day, another party. This time it was for a benefit of sorts, of course all the great movie stars would be there – he could only guess Chittaphon would never make an absence to a frivolous frolic like this one. He wondered briefly if he would bring his bodyguard with him tonight, and perhaps they would have a secret liaison again. Not that Taeyong cared at all.

Taeyong was in the limousine with Boa again, gripping her hand tight like his life depended on it. He didn’t want to be here, as usual, but he was dragged into it at the notion that Boa would let him use one of the most expensive suits there is in the market.

“You’d look absolutely spectacular,” Boa told him as he showed him the photo of the suit a few days prior. It was a black Dolce and Gabbana suit, with grey floral patterns adorning the front. It costed so much that Taeyong thought he could never handle paying that with his own money, though of course he would be sponsored the suit – he would never need to buy it. Boa, on the other hand, had lots of money to spend, so she chose to spend it all on making Taeyong the most beautiful man in existence.

He was wearing said suit in the limousine, fixing his cufflinks as the car came to a stop. Boa was staring at him again, her feline eyes boring holes into his skin. She was dazzling, as usual, with a strapless Elie Saab gown that was gold at the bodice but with a skirt made of chiffon that reached the floor but still had that slit on the side that showed Boa’s leg. Her hair was down, while Taeyong’s hair was slicked back. They looked absolutely blinding.

“You don’t want to waste all their excitement, do you, Taeyongie?” asked Boa, her voice like a lilting flower. She always knew how to get into his soft side. “They want to see you.”

“I don’t know why you keep wanting me to join you in these functions, _noona_ ,” he told her.

“Well first,” she tried to help him with his cufflinks, “you make an impeccable arm candy. And second, who knows when you’ll meet another director like Kim Doyoung, yes?”

She reached for her clutch and took out a diamond stud from the pocket. She hooked the earring on Taeyong’s lone piercing which completed the entire look. He smiled at her, and he never questioned why Boa gave him so much. He was, perhaps, just lucky that he had found this woman. He would need to find a way to pay her back, however, and that was a problem. The only way he knew how was by having sex with her, but he knew that their little arrangement would never be permanent.

“Let’s go, Taeyongie,” Boa told him.

With that, Taeyong nodded and allowed himself to get out of the limousine. He was met, again, by a flurry of flashing cameras all wanting him and Boa to look their way. He held Boa’s hand in his, somewhat like a proud partner, and went slowly to the party venue, allowing, this time, the paparazzi to take more pictures of them in their outfits. They were stopped a couple of times by news reporters for interviews.

“Hello!” One reporter piped up from behind him, which startled Taeyong. “I’m Na Jaemin, from Dream News.”

“…Hi,” Taeyong greeted back.

The reporter, who looked young and sprightly, pointed his microphone at him. The cameraman was right in front of them as Jaemin spoke, “Is it true that you’re going to work with Kim Doyoung in his new movie?”

Now, how did _that_ information leak out? Taeyong knitted his eyebrows together, his face quizzical, but the smile on his lips still intact. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“Ah, I love how you keep us fans hyped up,” Jaemin chuckled. “Not even a hint?”

Taeyong shrugged playfully. “You’ll know when it’s there.”

Then, without warning, he was already being dragged by Boa away from the crowd into the venue. He heard Jaemin say one “thank you” before heading over into the venue. This time, since the benefit was more intimate than anything, each pair was allowed one table each, so he and Boa were seated in one table with no rowdy peers of Boa’s bumping into their conversation.

Park Jinyoung, who was the host of the benefit, was saying some speech about how important this gathering was but Taeyong did not seem to care. His legs were crossed, and he was observing every person that was there. He had not seen Doyoung among the crowd but instead he saw someone far worse.

From the corner of his eye, he saw, of course, none other than Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul in the other room. His hair was styled in soft curls that only made his facial features even sharper. He was with a woman (he had thought Chittaphon would actually be with his bodyguard for tonight). The more Taeyong turned to look at Chittaphon, he saw that the girl was Lalisa Manoban, another rising star from Thailand, and she was absolutely stunning. Chittaphon turned his head a little and instantly, their eyes met. The man only gave him a smirk, before turning his attention back to Lalisa.

The host made them raise their glasses for a toast, but to what Taeyong would never know the answer. Finally, they toasted and the party began. There was a live orchestra to provide entertainment for the guests as they dined the exquisite cuisine that was planned out for them by the party organizers. He looked around and wondered where the bars were in the hall. He thought he needed a drink stronger than champagne for the night, just to give himself a light buzz.

When he stood up, Boa asked where he was going. He gave her hand a squeeze and told her that he was going to get a drink for himself. He inquired if Boa wanted a drink for herself as well, but she shook her head.

“Be careful, Yongie,” she told him, with a tone of warning in her voice.

“What do you mean by that, _noona?”_ He wondered.

She shook her head, trying to wipe away the concern from her face. “Nothing, just have fun.”

Of course, Taeyong would always choose the farthest bar to get his drinks from, as before. He had hoped that no annoying co-star of his would be sticking his tongue inside his bodyguard’s throat nearby. He asked the bartender for some scotch, which he quickly received after a moment of waiting. He downed the glass quickly, just to have that burning sensation crawl down his throat.

“That’s good,” he said to no one in particular. He had forgotten how terrible he was with alcohol.  

After two glasses of scotch, his face was already red and it got even redder when a familiar person came sitting next to him on the bar. Rage quelled in his veins, and it the alcohol only made his blood boil even more.

“I’ll have what he’s having,” the man said, playfully.

“The fuck are you doing here, Chittaphon?” Taeyong snarled.

“I’m watching you get shitfaced drunk, that’s what.”

Taeyong’s eyes narrowed at that. It doesn’t help that he knew exactly what Chittaphon was going through.  He sank an elbow on the countertop and stared at Chittaphon with his cheek nestled nicely on his fist. Chittaphon had quickly downed the glass of scotch that the bartender had handed over to him. The Thai man glanced over at the number of empty glasses there were on the counter: there were only two. He scoffed.

“Only two glasses of this, and your face is _that_ red?”

“Shut the fuck up, Chittaphon,” he spat.

“Scary,” Chittaphon cooed, inching closer. “It almost turns me on.”

Taeyong’s brain stopped functioning for a moment when he heard that. “Huh?”

“I said,” Chittaphon scooted closer, their alcohol-laced breaths touching each other’s skin, “your stupidly attractive face turns me on. It’s unfair.”   

Taeyong poked his eyebrow upwards, and surveyed Chittaphon’s face. He was probably looking for an escape, a person who would willingly give his body to the heartbroken man in front of him. Then again, Chittaphon wasn’t bad looking at all, maybe the alcohol made him think that way. In fact, Chittaphon had a nice, tall nose and perfectly smooth skin. And those lips – they were supple. He definitely wouldn’t mind kissing those lips if only they didn’t belong to such an insufferable person.

“What?” Chittaphon asked, almost like a whisper. He was edging closer.

“You think I’m pretty?” Taeyong teased, his voice low and gravelly.

“I _think_ ,” Chittaphon grabbed a hold of his bow tie and unraveled it carefully, “we should head over to the bathroom, so I can do whatever I want with you.”

Taeyong felt his stomach flip over, but not because of the scotch. He leaned into the touch. “And what makes you think I’ll let you do that?”

Holding onto both sides of the bow tie, he pulled himself close, that their lips were almost touching, and their noses were pressed against one another. “Because I’ll let you do whatever you want with _me_.”

In a blind, alcohol-dazed flurry of passion, Taeyong grabbed Chittaphon by the wrists, ignoring the people around them. He paused for a moment, to stare at Chittaphon’s eyes, which were dark and half-lidded. His lips were slightly parted, ready to receive whatever Taeyong wanted to give him. Taeyong did not stop to think why Chittaphon all of a sudden found him attractive, and why _he,_ all of a sudden, found Chittaphon worthy of his time and eyesight. Taeyong huffed, like an animal in heat, before Chittaphon crashed their lips together. He disregarded the noises that chairs made as his feet kicked into them as he tried to bring Chittaphon to the nearest bathroom, while not letting go of his lips. It felt like a competition, almost, of who could kiss better.  

His mind was clouded, confused and dazed with the feeling of his rival’s lips melting into his. The nearest bathroom was only a few strides away, so it did not take long for Taeyong to slam Chittaphon against the cold tiled wall. He made sure to lock the door so no one would interrupt them or walk in on one of the most sought-after new stars ravishing each other’s faces. Taeyong had the Thai actor pinned to the wall, in a sitting position, his knees nicely locked on Taeyong’s waist.

“I-I didn’t know you’re this strong, noodle boy,” muttered Chittaphon against his lips, mussing up his hair with his fingers. Their tongues were gliding against one another, like an intimate dance only they could perform.

“Call me noodle boy again or you’ll regret it,” growled Taeyong, gripping his co-star’s ass with a vengeance. He heard him moan pathetically, which only meant Taeyong was succeeding.

“What exactly will I regret _noodle boy_? Allowing you to get your hands on me, or riling you up with my taunts?” Chittaphon still had that smirk on his face, like he would never give up this battle so easily. “I don’t think I’ll ever regret any of those.”  

Then, Chittaphon placed two hands on Taeyong’s chest and pushed him away before getting back on his two feet again. Before Taeyong could make a counterattack, he was spun around by Chittaphon, so his back was slammed against the wall this time. He cried out in pain from the sudden impact, which was then interrupted by Chittaphon kissing a line down his neck while brushing against his nipple above the expensive white shirt. Taeyong felt his knees buckle, but he tried not to lose the upper hand in this and began to shrug off Chittaphon’s jacket.

“Do you have a condom?” Chittaphon asked as he raised himself from Taeyong’s neck only to whisper in his ear.

“It’s in my pocket,” said Taeyong with his teeth gritted. He felt Chittaphon slip his hand along the curve of his ass, completely missing the pocket at first, but he knew that the Thai man did that on purpose. He wanted Taeyong to unravel himself – to show vulnerability. Well, not tonight, Taeyong thought. The co-star was drumming dots onto the fabric of his suit, almost teasing him with the slow pace. Then, finally, his fingers had reached into the pocket so he could get the condom.

“What else is in here?” Chittaphon asked as his fingers bumped into other things in the pocket before finally taking out the small square packet.

“A lighter, and more things you shouldn’t care about,” he said.  

“Look at the good boy,” the other flashed a Cheshire cat-like grin, clipping the condom between his two front fingers, “always prepared for the worst. Planning to fuck Boa anytime tonight?”

The mention of his friend’s name made Taeyong’s ears ring. “You sound extremely jealous, Chittaphon.”

“Of what? Why would I be jealous?”

“Because I can be with Boa whenever I want, there are no secrets.” He grabbed Chittaphon by the tie in the last word. “And you? You always have to hide.”

Chittaphon sank his fingers into Taeyong’s hair aggressively and angrily. “My relationship with Johnny is none of your business.”   

“So is my relationship with Boa,” said the other man, without hesitation, “and yet we find each other in this lone bathroom together.”

“I’ve got nothing to lose,” Chittaphon whispered, before latching his fingers onto the hem of Taeyong’s slacks. Taeyong sipped in a huge breath, before nodding, to make Chittaphon pull his pants all the way down. The rush of air was cold. “Turn over,” said his co-star, his voice sharp and cool.

Chittapon took out a small bottle of lube from his pocket, barely visible – it almost looked like it was just a bottle of cologne, but it was well-concealed, no one would have guessed. Taeyong wondered briefly if Chittaphon had planned for all this, that he knew Taeyong would go to the farthest bar to get drinks, and that he wanted him badly, despite their hate for each other.  Taeyong did as he was told, and faced the wall. He didn’t know why he was complying, but the atmosphere was heated enough for him to sink into the passion. Chittaphon kissed the nape of his neck, and then Lee Taeyong was gone.

When Chittaphon had finally entered him, after what seemed like an eternity of preparation, he tried not to moan out, because that would mean that he was vulnerable to this man’s touch. Taeyong cupped his mouth with his hand to prevent any lewd sounds from escaping, but Chittaphon took a hold of both his hands as he fucked him against the wall. Soon, it was only the sound of skin slapping against the other and soft grunts.

They needed this – they both needed this.

 


End file.
